He glanced away.
“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Natalie demanded. “You knew what she was planning to do.”
Spence rubbed the side of his face with his hand. He suddenly looked indescribably weary. “She mentioned it to me earlier.”
“In front of Kyle?”
“No. The night after Anthony died.”
A red veil of anger descended over Natalie as she glared up at him. “If you knew when you came to get Kyle what your mother was planning, why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you think I had a right to know?”
“Yes. But I also didn’t think you’d let him come if you knew.”
“You were right about that,” she answered coldly. “It’s amazing how all you Bishops stick together. Blood certainly does tell, doesn’t it?”
“I know how this must make you feel,” Spence said carefully. “But try to look at this from her perspective. Her son is dead, and she thinks you killed him. Can you blame her for not wanting the woman she thinks is a murderess to raise her only grandson?”
“Don’t you dare!” Natalie lashed out. “Don’t you dare defend your mother to me. She doesn’t care about Kyle. She only wants revenge against me. Well, let me tell you something. She will never get her hands on my son. She will never turn him into the kind of man Anthony was.” The kind of man you are, she thought. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop her.”
Spence’s gaze hardened on her. “Is that how you felt when you found out Anthony was planning to sue you for custody of Kyle? Were you willing to do whatever it took to stop him?”
Natalie felt as if he had just punched her, very hard, in the stomach. Her breath left her in a painful rush. “I didn’t kill Anthony,” she said. “And I’m getting tired of having to tell you that. Why don’t you just get out of my way and leave me alone?”
She tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? You obviously think I’m a murderer. Why waste your time with the likes of me?”
His green gaze darkened. “Because I told you before. I want answers, and you’re the only one who can help me find them.”
“Answers to what?” she cried in frustration. “I don’t know anything. I was knocked unconscious while Anthony was being murdered. I didn’t see or hear anything. I don’t know anything, so just leave me and my son alone!”
She jerked her arm free of him and walked to the car door. Before she could open it, Spence said, “I’m not the one trying to take Kyle away from you, Natalie. I’m not your enemy.”
Her gaze challenged his. “You’re a Bishop, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But so is your son.”
* * *
“DID SHE MEAN IT, MOM? Can she really take me away from you?”
Natalie looked down at Kyle in alarm. “Oh, honey, you heard all that?”
He shrugged sheepishly, but his eyes still looked frightened. “I rolled down my window.”
“Kyle—”
“I know. I’m not supposed to eavesdrop. Are you mad at me?”
She smiled. “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m just sorry you had to hear all that. Your Grandmother Bishop is…very upset right now. She said a lot of things she didn’t really mean.” Or at least, Natalie prayed Irene hadn’t meant them.
“She thinks you killed my dad, doesn’t she?” The solemn little eyes, so innocent and trusting, gazed up at her.
Natalie bit back her tears and nodded.
The tips of Kyle’s ears turned bright pink with anger. “I’d like to go punch her right in the nose.”
Natalie put her fingertips to her lips, smiling. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time. Thank you, Kyle.”
“You’re welcome,” he said earnestly. “I’d like to punch Anthea, too. But not Spence. I like him.”
“You…do?”
“Yeah. He’s way cool. He’s not like the others. He talks to you and stuff. He doesn’t just look at you. And he has a really neat car.”
“The limo?”
“Naw, his real car. It’s black and shiny and looks like a race car or something. It’s fast as anything. He let me ride to the church with him in it, so I wouldn’t have to go with the others. I hate the way they all stare at me, Mom. Especially her.”
“Which her?” Natalie started the car and drove out of the parking area.
“Melinda. I don’t like her. And you know what?”
“What?”
“She doesn’t like me.”
Natalie glanced at her son. “I’m sure that’s not true. She’s upset now, too—”
He shook his head emphatically. “She didn’t like me even before. I heard her say so to my dad once, when he took me to their house.”
“You were in Melinda’s house?”
Kyle nodded. “He told me not to tell you. He said it would be our secret.”
That sounded like Anthony. Natalie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Did you and he have other secrets?”
Kyle turned to look out the side window. He said nothing.
“Well, did you?” Natalie persisted, feeling alarmed by her son’s silence.
“Do you want to know what I heard her tell my dad or not?”
Natalie sighed. Like his father, Kyle had a neat way of changing the subject when it suited him. “What did she say?”
Kyle screwed up his face in concentration. “She said, ‘How dare you bring that little brat into my home, flaunting him in my face when you know I can never have a baby of my own?’”
Natalie looked at him in shock. He’d mimicked Melinda’s whining tone perfectly. “How do… How do you remember that conversation so well, honey?”
“I recorded it,” he said proudly. “And I listened to it over and over. I thought it was funny.”
“You recorded it? On that tape recorder your dad gave you?”
He nodded.
“I thought you said you lost it,” Natalie reminded him. “You told me you couldn’t find it anywhere.”
Kyle looked stricken for a moment, as if realizing he’d given himself away, then said, “Well, that was before I lost it.”
Natalie let that one pass for the moment. She braked for a light, automatically glancing in her rearview mirror. A black sports car pulled up behind her, but behind the tinted windshield, Natalie couldn’t make out the driver.
“What did your dad say to Melinda?” she asked Kyle.
“He said he wanted a divorce.”
“He did?”
“He told Melinda he wanted a divorce and he wasn’t giving her any money. Or something like that.”
“Kyle, are you sure about this?”
“I told you. I listened to it over and over. Melinda’s got a really dumb voice, doesn’t she, Mom?”
Natalie nodded absently. So Anthony had been ready to divorce Melinda, and she’d known it. Natalie wondered if the police had dug up that tidbit when they’d unearthed the fact that Anthony was going after custody of Kyle. Wouldn’t that make Melinda an equal suspect?
Except, of course, for the fact that Melinda hadn’t been found at the crime scene, holding the bloody murder weapon.
It all came back to that. Natalie had the feeling that the answer to all her troubles was hidden somewhere in the back of her mind, only there was no way she could get to it. No way she could find it. Because while Anthony was being murdered, she’d been out cold—
“Mom, look out!”
The light had turned green and she’d automatically entered the intersection. When she glanced over at Kyle’s yell, she saw a car heading straight toward them.
It was too late to brake. The car would plow right into them on Kyle’s side. Natalie did the only other thing she could do. She stepped on the gas and the car shot forward. But not before the other car had rammed the right rear fender of Natalie’s car.
There was a terrible crunching sound, an awful bone-jarring impact and for a second, the steering whe
el in Natalie’s hand spun out of control. As if in a daze, she heard the distant sound of horns honking and tires squealing. Finally she managed to get the car stopped, and she sat for a moment, her head spinning.
Then she looked at Kyle. Even though he was wearing his seat belt, his head must have hit the side window on impact, because the window was shattered, and a stream of blood coursed down his face.
“Kyle! Oh, dear God.” She fumbled with her seat belt, trying to free herself so she could reach for him.
“I’m hurt, Mommy!”
“I know, baby. Let me see how badly. Kyle, move your hand out of the way.”
He brought his hand down from his face and gazed at it. “I’m bleeding!” he wailed. “I’m gonna die!”
Traffic was stopped all around them. They had been knocked out of the intersection, but the rear of the car still blocked one lane. “You’re not going to die,” Natalie told him, although her own heart was beating so hard she thought she might have a heart attack. “I have to get you out of the car. We can’t just sit here. We might get hit again.”
She unfastened his seat belt and reached across to open his door. It was stuck. She opened her own door and started to get out to go around, when Kyle’s door was suddenly yanked open and Spence leaned down to gaze inside.
Natalie was almost glad to see him. Almost.
“I was right behind you,” he said. “I saw the crash.”
“I’m bleeding,” Kyle said unnecessarily.
“So I see.” Spence slipped his arms around the little boy and easily lifted him from the seat. “Looks like you’re going to have quite a shiner there, too. Let’s get you out of there, buddy, and have a look.”
Natalie climbed out of the car and joined them at the side of the road. Spence had knelt and was cradling Kyle across his lap. “It’s not that bad, but he probably needs stitches,” he told Natalie. “We’d better get him to a hospital.”
“What about the car? Should I just leave it?”
A couple of passersby had stopped to help. One of them said, “The other guy’s long gone. He just hightailed it out of here after he hit you. Probably a DWI.”
“Call the police,” Spence said. “When they get here, tell them they can find us at the hospital. Meanwhile, maybe a couple of you could push the car out of the street.”
“Sure. But isn’t it against the law to leave the scene of an accident?”
Spence stood, still holding Kyle in his arms. “You let me worry about that.”
* * *
“WE WANT A PLASTIC surgeon,” Spence said. Natalie just gazed at him in surprise. They were seated in an emergency-room cubicle, watching while a nurse and the resident on duty examined Kyle. Natalie had been so relieved to get him to the hospital that it had never even occurred to her to request a plastic surgeon.
The nurse glanced up. “I saw Dr. Redmond in the hallway a few minutes ago. He may still be here.”
“Page him,” Dr. Whitting said, obviously unfazed by Spence’s request.
Within minutes the plastic surgeon had been summoned, and while he worked on Kyle, Spence and Natalie stood outside in the waiting room.
“What happened?” Spence asked, after Natalie had declined his offer of a cup of coffee.
“Didn’t you see? Whoever hit us ran a red light,” Natalie said. “I had a green light, and I was already in the intersection when the other car just came blazing through. I couldn’t get out of the way in time.”
Natalie shivered, thinking about the accident. Suddenly, the strange phone call she’d gotten earlier came rushing back to her. The gruff voice warning her, “You know what I want. I want what’s mine. Cooperate, and nobody else has to get hurt.”
And Anthony in a rage the night he’d been murdered: “You thought you could pull a fast one on me, didn’t you? You’ve always been just a little too clever for your own good, Natalie. But not this time. Now hand them over before I do something we might both regret.”
Natalie’s heart thudded against her chest. What was going on here? Anthony had accused her of finding something that belonged to him. The voice on the phone accused her of having something that belonged to him. But what? What were they looking for? What had she inadvertently gotten herself involved in?
And what did it have to do with Anthony’s murder?
“Natalie?” She jumped when Spence’s hand touched her arm. He was gazing down at her strangely. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m…not sure.” She was on the verge of telling him about the phone call earlier when she stopped suddenly, realizing who he was. He was a Bishop. He believed she’d murdered his brother. How could she confide in him? How could she trust him?
But a little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he was a seasoned professional, an FBI agent. If anyone would know what to do about the voice on the phone, about the accident, it was Spence.
Still, something held her back. An image of Irene at the cemetery threatening to take away her son. And Spence had known about it. He’d known about it and he hadn’t warned her. How could she trust him now? Supposing she confided in him and he ran straight to Irene? She could use this as ammunition in a custody fight. If she could prove Natalie couldn’t take care of Kyle, or that Kyle was in danger because of her…
Another thought occurred to Natalie. What if the Bishops were behind all this? What if they had paid someone to call her earlier, and then hired that same someone to ram her car? She wouldn’t put it past Irene or Anthea to do something that underhanded, and she knew exactly what Melinda was capable of. But what about Spence? How far would he be willing to go to prove his loyalty to his family? And why had he been following her from the cemetery? That seemed just a little too convenient to Natalie.
She opened her mouth to ask him about that, but just then the cubicle door opened and Dr. Redmond stepped out. He smiled at them both. “Mr. and Mrs. Bishop?”
Natalie started to correct him, but Spence spoke first. “How’s Kyle?”
“He’ll be fine. I’m recommending you keep him here overnight, though, just as a precaution. I’ve talked to Dr. Whitting and he agrees.”
Fear knotted Natalie’s stomach. “But I thought you said he was going to be fine.”
The doctor turned to her. “He is. But he took a nasty bump on the head, and at his age, his condition should be closely monitored for the next several hours. I’ve already called upstairs and arranged a room.”
“Can I see him?” Natalie asked, unable to keep the quiver of emotion out of her voice.
“Sure. Go on in. I’ve explained the situation to him, but I’m sure he’d like to hear it from you.” Dr. Redmond placed a reassuring hand on Spence’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We patched him up just fine. That’s a real good-looking kid you got there.”
“Thanks,” Spence mumbled.
Natalie said nothing. She didn’t dare.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Mom, you didn’t have to do that. He’s only going to be in here overnight.”
“I don’t care,” her mother said, placing the tiny Christmas tree on the nightstand beside Kyle’s hospital bed and plugging in the lights. “When he wakes up, the first thing he’ll see is his Christmas tree. That’s bound to cheer him up.”
Natalie stared down at her sleeping son. It was still early, but after Kyle had eaten his dinner, he’d fallen promptly asleep. She had been sitting by his bedside, watching him closely even though a nurse came in regularly to check on him.
“How’s Dad?” she asked anxiously.
“Now don’t you go worrying about him,” her mother said, fussing with Kyle’s bedcovers. “He’s fine. He said to tell you he’ll be by in the morning to pick us all up.”
“But you don’t have to spend the night,” Natalie protested. Her mother had spent countless hours in the hospital when her father had his heart attack. Another night in a hospital room was probably the last place she wanted to be.
But she waved off Natalie’s protest. “Do
you honestly think I’m going to let my only grandson stay overnight in the hospital without me here to keep an eye on him? I’m staying, and that’s final.”
Natalie smiled, relieved in spite of herself. “Thanks, Mom. To tell you the truth, I could use the company right now. I’ve been sitting here thinking about how badly he could have been hurt….”
“But he wasn’t. Concentrate on the positive,” her mother told her. “Isn’t that what I always taught you?”
Natalie nodded, trying to do as her mother instructed. She was right. The accident could have been a lot worse. Natalie had a lot to be grateful for, and she would do well to remember that in the trying times ahead.
But still…
She couldn’t help thinking. She couldn’t help worrying.
Her gaze returned to her son. The lights in the room had been dimmed, and the soft flash of the tiny Christmas-tree lights cast little dancing shadows across Kyle’s sleeping face. “He really is beautiful, isn’t he?” she said quietly, thinking that of all her blessings, he was her most precious.
“He’s almost as beautiful as my own child.” Her mother came around the bed and wrapped her arms around Natalie.
Natalie rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m so scared,” she whispered.
“I know. But everything’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
“With all my heart.”
Restless, Natalie walked over to the window to stare out at the parking lot. It was a clear night with a full moon and a light breeze that skimmed through the oasis of magnolia trees and azalea bushes planted in the center of the lot. The bushes were trimmed with little green lights that winked like fireflies in the darkness.
Natalie focused on one of the lights, thinking about the fullness of her life, about everything she had to be grateful for, and yet, like Gatsby staring at that green light across the water, she yearned for something that could never be.
“What is it, Natalie?”
She continued to stare at the light. “I’m just feeling a little down tonight and I can’t seem to shake it.”
“Is it something you want to talk about?”
A Man of Secrets Page 8
